#doctor is 1 hour (a specialist) or 1 and a half hours

[aklihermson]

Because many people kept asking about the photo, I decided to do the post about Ice-pick Lodge and Pathologic on KRI-2005

Ice-pick Lodge (Nikolai Dybowski, Petr Potapov, Airat Zakirov, etc.) went on the KRI-2005 (Game Devs conference) to give presentation about first Pathologic game.

Here are some photos, and the info from their site will be under the cut:

! All following info are from their site. Nothing is changed.

The day before March 31, 2005.

Due to the most recent events, we are severely short on human resources.

After spending four and a half hours gathering the most necessary medical tools and supplies, we piled into an ambulance and set off. A crucial task lay ahead: to select a suitable location for the secret anti-infectious laboratory.

The famous doctor-epidemiologist, doctor of medical sciences, professor of the department of lethal fevers of the state medical school Pestitsky Innokenty Savvovich comprehensively studied the epidemiological situation in the city. Having thoroughly considered all possible options, the professor opted for the famous hotel "Cosmos".

Honorable Innokenty Savvovich confirmed that in the next three days the presence of leading epidemiologists, sanitarians and attending physicians was necessary here.

As usual, equipment, service personnel and specialists (including Innokenty Savvovich himself) were brought to the meeting place through the basement. In the same way, shortly before, materials were obtained from a certain studio Ice-pick Lodge, which, according to rumors, is engaged in the development of computer games.

The location of the secret laboratory was marked with portraits of the protagonists of the simulator of human behavior in an extreme situation. The simulator was given a catchy, spectacular name - "Pathologic (Mor. Utopia)". Unusual, and on the ear.

We were not alone in the basement. We watched a strict bearded man in a yellow T-shirt carrying tanks with kvass past the future laboratory. We decided to be sure to inspect it for symptoms of Febris sebulosae infestation.

The production of kvass requires water, and most local sources, according to Professor Pestitsky, are in critical proximity to the burial fields of the results of last year's experiments of the laboratory.

Tomorrow, don't forget - ampoules for injections, sedatives, bandages, and spare shirts just in case.

Day 1 01.04.2005.

10:00

The situation is critical. There's a whole exhibition here. Dr. Pestitsky suspects that the territory of the neighboring stand (and maybe the whole complex) is hopelessly contaminated! We are conducting research: we have taken samples of air and water from local sources.

We are waiting for the results of the analysis. The professor's appointment is scheduled for 12:00.

It is surprising that potential patients themselves turn to the professor. Instead of the usual search and forced delivery of patients in need of examination, our orderlies have to guard the territory of the laboratory from unauthorized entry.

11:00

The results of air and water samples show the undoubted presence of the virus (in our laboratory it is called Febris sebullosa).

It is necessary to conduct a general inspection and comprehensive examination of visitors to detect symptoms of infection.

It was decided to declare a quarantine.

The decision to completely sanitize the premises, according to the expert committee of epidemiologists, is premature, but is not ruled out.

12:00

The examination of visitors has begun. The professor and the nurse are working in protective suits, masks and gloves.

At the same time they started the presentation of the simulator of human behavior in the situation of epidemic "Pathologic (Mor. Utopia)".

Detailed familiarization with the simulator will surely increase the chances of survival for the simulants.

Strange behavior of examinees is alarming: up to 90% of patients ask questions about minimum system requirements and number of polygons. Probably, the consequences of inflammatory processes of the left cerebral hemisphere and hypothalamus are affecting.

The system (drip)is placed intravenously in the patient for immediate and complete entry of medical drugs into the bloodstream. No minimum requirements are imposed on the patient. Test sites were used by the lab last year, but their location is highly classified.

17:00

By the end of the first day of the lab, 45 visitors have been examined.

The results of the examination are delivered to the central laboratory for detailed analysis.

Day 2 02.04.2005.

10:00

All night long we analyzed the results. By morning a summary report was compiled:

45 visitors (40 men and 5 women) were examined for symptoms of Febris Sabulosa (later FS).

BP elevation up to 140/90 mmHg was registered in 12 people, up to 180/105 mmHg. - у 7. Venous filling up to 100% was registered only in 28 subjects, the average filling was 83%. Pupillary reaction is adequate in 95% of subjects: pupils constricted at direct exposure to light reflected by frontal reflector.

The classification of preuremic stages of chronic renal failure (CRF) with additional determination of proteinuria degree was used. Judging by the reaction to the test drugs taken orally by the visitors, the CPN syndrome was not detected in any of the examined patients.

Dynamics of laboratory tests revealed that in 6 patients the stage of FS compensation passed to the latent stage. Alarming signal. We proceeded to the choice of optimal medical preparations for prevention and treatment of the consequences of FS infection.

Prof. Pestitsky is inclined to the choice of drugs of mixed type of immune response (Th1/Th2).

The rationale for choosing immunocorrectors of this type is their ability to correct internal hemodynamics, stabilize the rate of glomerular filtration, and reduce FS activity. Analyzing the literature data, we can conclude that the following drugs meet these requirements:

(drugs description )

12:00

We continue to examine visitors. All those examined receive a certificate with the results of the examination, signed by the medical staff of the field laboratory, the certificate is stamped.

Subjects are easy to contact, but the introduction of quarantine has affected their number. The age bar has risen sharply. Yesterday minors prevailed among the patients, today are much less.

14:00

Some of the visitors have mutation effects. This may be due to the close proximity of the GSC booth, as our examination did not reveal any symptoms of FS infection in these visitors.

Immediate hospitalization is recommended for several patients. It is necessary to make sure that they do not disregard Innokenty Savvovich's advice - those who refuse will have to be forcibly loaded into the carriage.

It's good to know that the secret laboratory is very well shielded.

We are not taken for what we really are.

16:00

We're continuing to examine the visitors. All patients are taking the medications prescribed by Professor Pestitsky.

The chief physician has left the laboratory area and has come into contact with extremely suspicious, probably unwell individuals.

They ask not to stand on their roof - in such cases immediate hospitalization is recommended.

Forcibly loading the patients into an ambulance was not possible: we were beaten to it. I wonder who carried out mass hospitalization using buses?

To clarify this issue, we followed the buses, observing the rules of covert surveillance. The buses unloaded the potential simulants at the club "Slava"

The choice of location is not random. A healthy person would not go to such a place, a sane person would lack either money or determination. But by taking the Hippocratic Oath, we have condemned ourselves to spend 90% of our time with people who are not quite healthy. Do no harm!

Tomorrow, don't forget: silent shoes with soft rubber soles.

Day 3 03.04.2005

10:00

There is a high probability that FS is a lethal virus.

11:00

Examined a man in a yellow T-shirt. Strangely, no suspicious symptoms were found. Still recommended him to support the body's immune system with vitamins, as well as to familiarize with the simulation of human behavior in an extreme situation "Pathologic (Mor. Utopia)". The patient refused gently but resolutely.

12:00

A large number of potential infected people gathered at the booth. In order to prevent mass contamination, the Chief Medical Officer gave a presentation of the simulator.

Taking the opportunity, the medical staff of the booth unobtrusively examined the visitors.

12:30

Visitor Andrei Kuzmin broke away from the group of those examined and stayed for a closer look at the simulator. He refused a comprehensive medical examination.

The level of high-frequency vibrations of his brain waves put the nurse in a trance state for a while. The Chief Laboratory Physician explained to Mr. Kuzmin the operation of the simulator in detail. It is necessary to examine the Chief Physician - none of us are familiar with such details.

14:00

Mr. Malik Khatajaev, a visitor of the stand, refused to make a comprehensive examination.

However, he promised to send his colleague Mr. Pyotr Prokhorenko for examination. Mr. Khatajaev argued that if Prokhorenko showed symptoms of FS, all other employees of the Lesta studio would also be hopelessly infected.

15:00

An unidentified infected person in a coma was found by our paramedics at Buka's booth and brought in. The patient could not be saved.

The time of death was recorded and the body was sent for pathologic examination. Autopsy results confirmed that death was due to FS infection. The fact that the FS virus leaves non-living cells instantly is extremely important.

15:30

Possibility of fatalities from FS infection has been announced. Asking people to leave the booth area.

Examine visitors who were too close to the infected person at the time of death. Patients have no instinct for self-preservation. I wonder if this is the result of inflammation.

A detailed study and analysis of the collected material will probably qualify us for the Küfner Prize.

16:00

The mental state of the Chief Medical Officer of the laboratory is of serious concern to Prof. Pestitsky. Today the Chief spoke about the primitive methods of developing simulators of human behavior and the possible direction of their development.

Probably, stress, mental overload of the last days, contacts with infected people and unexpectedly serious attitude to the question of rabbit breeding are affecting him. He seems to really consider himself a computer game developer by now.

17:00

Paramedics found Mr. Prokhorenko in a coma. All symptoms were identical to the previous case. At their own risk, the paramedics took Mr. Prokhorenko to the field laboratory. The measures taken by the medical personnel allowed Mr. Prokhorenko to be resuscitated and partially brought out of the coma.

This fact suggests the possibility of overcoming the consequences of infection by activating the latent intellectual potential of the patient.

17:15

Lesta Studios employees have been recommended to undergo a comprehensive examination. The inhabitants of the neighboring orange booth are also recommended to be examined. They are clearly in a stage of extreme emotional agitation.

Also disturbing is the fact that they are interested in breeding rabbits (when discussing this issue on their faces appears an extremely spiritualized expression).

People with the letters DTF around their necks cannot but surprise: it seems that they acted as volunteers of our laboratory all three days, taking measures to reduce the number of visitors (especially middle school age) and solving organizational issues.

A commendable enthusiasm worthy of full encouragement.

18:00

A simulation of human behavior in an extreme situation was recognized as one of the most out-of-the-box preventive measures to combat epidemics.

Link on Dybowski's Lecture:

https://youtu.be/LbQpCmLELco?si=3hIRJoLp3qGPh6Iq

[eirianerisdar]

I think I’m done.

I’ve written many posts about my experience as a doctor. Some of them are funny, some of them sad. Some of them poignant.

But I think I’m done being a doctor in the current public healthcare system where I live.

I’m a Family Medicine resident. I rotated through two and a half years of hosptial residencies, and I’m in my first year of clinic-only practice. It should sound good; no more 26-38 hour shifts on top of 12 hour workdays.

But I’m currently seeing 33-37 patients from 9-1 pm daily and 24 patients from 2-5 pm daily. I also sometimes work 6-10 pm. Each of these clinic sessions also includes a solid 1.5 inches of seperate lab results I’m expected to screen during consultation time. I work Monday through to half of Saturday. Im expected to also complete a dermatology university diploma on top of this. I have exams in family medicine this year, the year after that, and two years after. Three and a half years more at least until I’m a specialist.

I can’t do it. I can’t keep giving each patient only 5 minutes of time as I’m doing now. I didn’t become a doctor to have to balance whether I should see my patient’s third complaint or ask them to book another session so I can have time to pee and eat.

Peeing and eating is like…the lowest level of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. I’ve spent all of my adult working years, from 23 years of age til now, chasing that. The right to pee and eat and drink.

The department head has his head so far up his ass with bootlicking the government that last quarter he pulled workforce away from chronic cases for half-full covid clinics and made us each therefore have to review 56 cases per four hour session. When we raised the issue of patient safety one of his associate consultants said, “I know it’s hard! Let’s get through this together!”

He is famed for picking on whether residents punctuate the numbering of their past medical history lists with brackets or periods.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

This afternoon between patients, I suddenly realised I had lost my voice. I’d been speaking too much. Moreover, I think my autistic brain had finally clicked over into the “dude you better go non verbal or you’ll die” function. Of course, I couldn’t actually afford to be non verbal. I plowed through the remaining cases so dissociated I nearly blacked out.

If I pass these next two years’ exams, I become senior resident. I will have the privilege of not being entrusted with 33 cases every four hours, but 40.

40 cases; all of them episodic patients, not chronic. This means all of them come in with new complaints, as in multiple. Time per patient gets knocked down to four minutes.

Respectfully, Fuck That.

I’m waiting until I get contract gratuity this summer, do the damn exam that everyone agrees is insane, and then I’ll apply to a plethora of private clinics in September and kiss this bloody department goodbye.

I want to be able to spend more than two minutes comforting a crying patient, dammit.

If I don’t leave soon I’ll break, and that’ll compromise patient safety over anything else.

[justforbooks]

In 1967 when Radio 1 was founded as a successor to the BBC Light Programme, one of its aims was to reach housewives – and to attract them, the station employed only male DJs (or “husband substitutes”, as they were known behind the scenes) for the first three years. It was only in 1970, bending with the times, that it took on its first female presenter, Anne (later Annie) Nightingale, a former journalist and television presenter with almost no radio experience.

The original male presenters have long since left the station, but Nightingale was still working for Radio 1 at the time of her death, aged 83, and had become its longest-serving broadcaster, most recently on air in December 2023. Known to fans as the Queen of Breaks – breakbeat was her specialist genre – she defied the station’s usual career trajectory (five years as a top-tier presenter, then off to weekends or Radio 2) by staying relevant. She introduced listeners to prog rock, punk, indie and dance music, and was unfeignedly passionate about them all. At 75, she told a dance magazine: “I listen to what 13-year-olds listen to because that’s the future. [I’ve] got to be ahead of the game all the time.”

As a dance music specialist from the late 1980s onward – playing “the biggest bass bangers”, as Radio 1’s website put it – Nightingale spent the second half of her career broadcasting to people too young to have known that she had been friends with the Beatles and Marc Bolan. But her age was immaterial because of her stature in the dance world. In 2001, she received Muzik magazine’s Caner of the Year prize in recognition of her late-night lifestyle – her favourite of all her awards, which also included an MBE in 2002 for services to broadcasting (advanced to CBE in 2020), and an honorary doctorate in journalism.

She was a highly knowledgable musical curator, and an expert at exploiting the intimacy of radio. Though Nightingale prioritised music over DJ patter, she recognised that a human voice was still an essential part of the mix; husky-toned and self-deprecating, she belied the station’s early fear that a female DJ would lack authority. According to the writer Irvine Welsh, who listened to her while growing up, her “cool, funky tones” stood out against “the flatulent sounds of loud, boring, thick and egotistical men strafing the airwaves”.

An only child, Nightingale was born in Osterley, west London, to Basil, who ran a wallpaper company, and Celia (nee Winter), a chiropodist. Educated at the independent Lady Eleanor Holles school in Hampton, she left before her A-levels. Overriding her parents’ request that she have “something to fall back on”, she enrolled on a journalism course at the Regent Street Polytechnic (now the University of Westminster). Moving to Brighton after graduation, she married a Fleet Street journalist, Gordon Thomas, and had two children. After a short stint at the Brighton and Hove Gazette, she became the only woman in the newsroom at the Brighton Argus.

Along with reporting local news at the parish-council level, she was given a music column called Spin With Me, which gave her access to the biggest pop stars of the 60s. Her friendship with the Beatles later helped open doors at Radio 1 – the band’s publicist, Derek Taylor, persuaded the station controller to let her audition after her own requests were repeatedly refused.

At a Dusty Springfield gig in 1964, she met Vicki Wickham, producer of Ready Steady Go!, who hired her as co-presenter of a new pop show called That’s For Me. It lasted only a few months, but the exposure led to writing work at the Daily Express and Cosmopolitan, and radio appearances on Today and Woman’s Hour. It was the era of pirate stations such as Radio Caroline; she considered applying to Caroline but was put off by the idea of “living out at sea with a bunch of blokes”.

Finally installed at Radio 1 in 1970, she was hampered at first by a lack of technical knowhow – her first day was marked by eight seconds of dead airtime when she accidentally pressed the “off” switch in the middle of a record. Yet she quickly established herself, choosing her own playlist almost from the start. Her skill at persuading listeners that what she wanted to hear was what they wanted to hear led in 1978 to the job of presenting BBC Two’s “serious” rock programme, The Old Grey Whistle Test. It had failed to keep up with musical fashion, a problem she tackled by booking the most challenging artists she could get away with and braving the consequences. She was delighted to bag Public Image Ltd for a live appearance, though frontman John Lydon repaid her enthusiasm by admonishing her for being “so fucking patronising”.

Four years at Whistle Test were followed by a return to Radio 1’s highly popular Sunday afternoon request show for 12 years. When acid house gained traction in the late 80s, she credited it with changing her life; from that point, she played solely dance music on Radio 1, first in the influential Chill Out Zone slot, then on a longstanding programme that went out at 1am on Wednesdays. Her free time, she said, was consumed by listening to the thousands of demo tapes she received every week.

Despite her achievements, Nightingale claimed she lacked confidence until she was robbed in Havana, Cuba in 1996. The attack left her unable to walk for months, but made her “a stronger person”, she said.

Though she hated nostalgia, she did reflect that ageing had been isolating. The death of John Peel, her friend from the early days of Radio 1, provoked the unusually downbeat comment: “Now John’s gone there’s nobody I know in my age group who remotely likes this kind of thing. I don’t understand why. I’m driven by it.”

She published two volumes of autobiography, Chase the Fade (1982) and Wicked Speed (2000), and a 50th-anniversary volume, Hey Hi Hello: Five Decades of Pop Culture from Britain’s First Female DJ, in 2020.

She is survived by her children, Alex and Lucy, from her first marriage, which ended in divorce. Her second marriage, to the actor Binky Baker in 1978, also ended in divorce.

🔔 Anne Avril Nightingale, broadcaster, born 1 April 1940; died 11 January 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[theveryworstthing]

I Live.

Gonna give y’all a little life update copy-pasted from patreon since I’ve been gone for a thousand years. I don't really want to get deep into everything because sharing too many private details about my life/family on the internet feels a little icky even when people are nice but a quick rundown is:

1. My mom was helping my aunt through the legal proceedings of a messy divorce from her abusive ex husband and had to fly to her place like every 2 weeks. During her stays there she sensed something was wrong and after a few doctor's visits we found out that my aunt has early onset dementia. She's being taken care of by family and her shitty ex will never see her again if we have any say so but it's been Rough. She doesn't deserve this shit.

2. Surgery Bonanza! Mom has to get a giant mysterious fatty mass schlorped out of her back and my Grandma Lou' s thyroid gland went insaneo style and blew up into two huge masses that had to be cut out of her throat before they completely cut off her breathing. Then she had a bonus surgery to help with her failing eyesight. On the bright side, there was no cancer found in the weird lumps harvested from my kin.

3. My cat developed a weird lump full of cancer. I spotted a small lump on his right back leg over a month ago and after begging his former vet for an appointment sooner than 2 weeks away we finally got him in. Within seconds she said that it was probably cancer and that if it is he probably won't survive the treatment for it because he's 15 so do I really want to know? Because if I know then maybe I'll want to treat this expensive thing  but if I wanted to let it ride it might be easier I guess? Because letting my weird little son die without trying to save him or give him proper end of life care is cool as long as it's cheaper and I don't have to think about it as much???? This was before any sort of intensive check on him or the tumor was done btw. The little dude was pretty much either a dead man walking or he had some mysterious swelling that time would take care of as far as she was concerned. Either way there was the vibe that she kind of wrote him off.

I ordered tests for him anyway, waited 2 weeks to get inconclusive answers, ordered an x-ray (which should have been done with the other test but whatever), waited a week and a half to learn that yeah, he probably does have cancer maybe and thank god it's not spreading too fast because uh oh! It's been almost a month and that bad boy has been growing this whole time!!!! Also it took weeks for them to bother scheduling any kind of re-check. At this point they say that there's nothing they can do and offer to get me in contact with what seems to be the only animal cancer specialist around. Who's like 2 and a half hours away. And has a crazy wait list. Did I mention that Coup hates being stuck in his carrier and will stress out and cry constantly every time he's forced to travel anywhere? So after reaching out to friends and family I found another much closer vet who could give me a second opinion first and thank god I found that place because not only did they actually judge him by his actual level of health instead of just his age when it comes to treatment (besides the cancer Coup is healthy as an ox, stellar scores in bloodwork and overall cat-ness, vet said that judging from his behavior/usage of the leg that we're probably more concerned about the situation than he is) but they also had a treatment plan rolled out and ready by the end of the visit. The boy is almost done with his chemo injections now and even though the shrinking is slow he's still in great health so we're daring to dream.

Fuck The Haters.

Other things happened but I don't want to talk about those things. The bottom line is that I'm not juggling a hell schedule or crying every day now so I want to get back in the drawing saddle. Thanks again to everyone on patreon who stuck around and basically threw their money in this mysterious pit, Y'all helped pay my bills when I was literally too mentally wrecked to work. And thanks to everyone else who sent me random good vibes, hoped I was okay, said nice things about my art, and were generally pretty cool even though I fled social media. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

[sir-arlieosaurus-lung-struggler]

the holidays are always really fucking weird, i dont like many of them but specifically December is just- ew

Anyway ill just thro my mini pitty party real quick:

These song explains how I feel about christmas time *perfectly*

Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas by mother mother (christmas playlist)

From heres basically a trauma dump about being in the hospital, but i typically talk about this in a tone more like "oh yea! i nearly died lmao"

When i was like, just turning 6 I had 💫pneumonia💫 & needed to go to the 💫hospital💫. So I spent like, 12/11-31/15 in the hospital. along the way i had these treats happen (not really in order, 💜=story from family member, ❤=i actually remember this)

💜being diagnosed by my sisters 16 yo boyfriend by looking at my gums, whereas medical staff took 4 days

❤Some mcdonalds, cool auntys banana bread, jello & making popin cookin sets w/ my older sister

💜a 5 day medically induced coma

lung surgery therefor cool fuckin scars on my back (WHICH I CANT FUCKING SHOW ANYONE CAUSE I WAS CURSED W/ TITS AND 2/3 ARE UNDER MY BRA)

💜waking up from said coma periodically only to say "im scared" w/ my mom trying to comfort me but i had ear shit going on

💜Finnaly actually woke up, yelled "IM DEAD", which is reportadly the scariest shit my dad has ever heard, my mom asks if i hurt, i say yes, she like "ur not dead honey" again i was 6 & in & out of a coma 😂 (idk why but I've always found that story funny)

💜my parents being thretened w/ truancy by my dumbass school

❤Christmas, I had *2* mini christmas trees in my hospital room 💅 1 was cool but my cool uncle & aunty got me a pink 1 which I still have to this day as a lamp

💜only trusting 1 of my doctors cause he looked like my grandfather who'd been deceased for 2years at that point

❤💜going on walks around the kids floor in a wheelchair & stealing a little gingerbread beanie baby ornament but they didnt care so they just let me keep it & i still have it somehwere.

💜my mom met a lady who had a son who was a few months old & they didnt expect to live past a couple weeks but he *did* (more on that later)

💜had food in the cafeteria and i proceeded to rub the pizza i got *into my hair*. My response? "Its just cheese" my family and I quote that to this day lmao.

💜being reverted to a toddler for a good minute (someone asked my age i said i was 3, i was not) & needing to relearn walking, talking, the little bit of reading i knew & getting into a shower w/out being scared of being pulled down the drain

❤said dude who asked my age worked at the hospital cafeteria & we visited him after most of my appointments. miss u uncle (that was what he went by), wish u well. Dont know where he since covid cause the part of the building cafeteria was in was torn down.

❤and after all that later and i got releaced on new years eve :>

results:

From there forward i had a 20-30minute nebulizer to do every 4 hours (which my parents had to wake up at like 2am for a half hour for), 2 twice daily inhailers, 2 nasil sprays, "the tire" (tastes like shit and makes me feel anxious) (that isnt even all of it my mom counted 8 meds at one point) and i slowly dropped them year by year till they had me down to just rescue inhailer as needed & if my lungs r really shit for a min i go on the tire. (Tire=prednisolone but what 6 year old is remembering that name lol)

specialist appointments every week, then 2 weeks, then every month, 3 months, 6 months, now im at checkup every year and check in as needed

"Look whos inside again" by bo burnham is my life in a nutshell

To this day the smell of a consentrated area of hand sanatizer just has me stop in my tracks lol.

seeing a picture of tiny me on my parents facebook feed yearly of me unconscious in a hospital bed w/ tubes in mah face

couple of close friend i met post hospital (keep in mind i was like 7) didn't believe me so i ran around the playground cursing them the fuck out (never did get in trouble for that 😂) ((I still talk to 1 of them shes cool))

Idk where to put this but about that kid I was talking about before, I found out last year around this time he had just died- of 💫pneumonia💫. yea that fucked me up for a good minute, he was around 6 too which didn't help, I never even met the kid and I still had a weird form of survivors guilt.

Anyway have a merry fucking christmas i really dont get this holiday lol, treat yourself kindly, feel free to be the grinch you are and explain in detail why u hate the holidays u arent alone lol

[whump-me]

Whumptober Day 1: Swooning

This is a standalone story in the Mind Games universe, a modern-day sci-fi/fantasy thriller setting about ordinary humans with superhuman abilities and the people who want to use or destroy them. Full description in the masterpost, linked on my pinned post.

This story contains: bittersweet rescue, semi-failed rescue, forced pregnancy (offscreen), lab whump (offscreen), baby forcibly taken from mother (offscreen), postpartum bleeding (brief mention), imminent death

words: 3900

---

Color. Color everywhere. Neon purples and muddy browns and sharp, stabbing greens. Where was the soft blue and white of her room? Where was the clean white light shining down from above? Here, there was more shadow than light, and the world was an ugly mess, like too many watercolors swirled together.

The enrichment specialists had brought watercolors last week. The colors had been so bright. This was worse. This was just like in her dreams, when the world was chaos, when outside was more than a picture in one of the storybooks the enrichment specialists read to her swollen belly.

Graciela was lying somewhere soft. Not like her bed. Her bed was hard—it was good for her back, they said.

She looked down at herself. She was dressed in more colors. It made her eyes hurt.

Her belly wasn’t swollen anymore. The baby had come last week. The doctors had put her to sleep, and when she had woken up, there was an ache where the baby had been, and she was bleeding. She was still bleeding. She could feel it hot and sticky between her legs.

Soon her belly would swell again.

They had let her hold the baby last time, for a full hour. They didn’t used to do that. It was part of the new program, the one with the enrichment specialists.

She moaned. Maybe from the ache, which was coming back now that sleep had left her. Maybe from the colors. Maybe from sheer confusion—where was she?

“She’s awake!” a voice exclaimed. She opened her eyes at the sound. A blurry shape moved in time with the voice. The shape had arms, and legs, and a mouth that was moving. “Get in here. She’s awake.”

The shape resolved itself into a man. He wasn’t wearing scrubs, or the soft blue uniform of the enrichment specialists. The enrichment specialists were done with her for now, anyway. They would be back when the next baby started growing in her belly. They would come to play music to her belly, or read a picture book, or watch while she did easy jigsaw puzzles that made her want to cram the pieces down someone’s throat.

She never said that, of course. Stress was bad for the baby. The enrichment specialists smiled more than the doctors, but they would have no qualms about putting her to sleep until the baby was born, if they thought it would be healthier.

She had spent half of one of her pregnancies like that. That stretch of time was nothing but a blur of soft watercolors in her memory, blue and white. She never wanted to do that again.

She pressed her lips tightly together so no more sound could escape.

The figure walked to her. He leaned over. Shaggy dark hair hung into his face. PERI never let anyone wear their hair that long without tying it back.

“I’m sorry about the sedative,” said. “We couldn’t risk you waking up on the way. Ruben said it would take a few hours to wear off, and that you would be pretty confused afterward.”

The blurry shape that was his face resolved into a collection of too-sharp features. A thin hooked nose, full lips, piercing blue eyes. More color.

Those eyes, and those lips, made her think of her dreams. Something crawled uneasily behind her ribs, waking up. When she thought too hard about the dreams, the stress alarms went off, and the doctors would put her to sleep. She had to calm down. You have to calm down, they would tell her. For the sake of the baby.

A name went along with the features. She didn’t want the name. Thinking about the name meant thinking about the dreams, about the past, about the memories that made her stress alarms go off. The doctors would knock her out. The world would turn to a pastel blur again. She would wake up and her belly would have swollen to twice its size…

But the name came to her without her willing it. Arthur. A decade older, but still recognizably her Arthur. The scar on his face had been fresh the last time she had seen him. Now it was faded, barely visible. But it was him. He was still wearing the same uniform of jeans and a ready t-shirt, even.

She must have said his name, because he nodded. “It’s me,” he said. “You’re safe.”

She had dreamed about this. About Arthur coming for her, rescuing her like she was a princess in a tower. About him taking her out of that place, and telling her she was safe. Next would come the stress alarms, and her frantic efforts to banish the thoughts and the feelings that went with them.

But the alarms didn’t go off.

It in her dreams, Arthur had always been the same age as when she had last seen him. Now he looked older. Too much older. Was that a gray hair behind his ear?

“I’m not dreaming?” She meant to say it as a statement. It came out more like a question.

Arthur smiled at her—the same old crooked smile. “No, you’re not.” He turned to stare over his shoulder, and a mug lurched up off a nearby table and zoomed to her. Tea sloshed over the side.

He shook his head. “Wow,” he said. “I forgot how much stronger my power always was around you. You haven’t lost your touch.”

The cup hovered in front of her, and waggled back and forth invitingly.

“Do you want some help sitting up?” Arthur asked.

Familiar feelings broke through the enforced peace she had learned to feel at all times. The jealousy at his ability—jealousy toward everyone who had a power of their own, not just the ability to strengthen others. The annoyance at seeing him use his power for no good reason. How hard would it have been to walk over to that table?

“And you’re still using your power when you don’t have to,” she said. Her voice was weak.

He slid one hand under her back and carefully propped her up against the… the head of the bed? No, this was a couch. It was Arthur’s couch, the same mud-brown monstrosity she had always been after him to get rid of.

He pressed the mug into her hands. It was warm. So was his touch. She almost closed her eyes again, wanting to melt into that touch.

But she had too many questions. And her head was still too blurry to think clearly about any of them.

She looked into his eyes, and saw questions there too. “They didn’t tell me much,” he said. “About where they found you. They just said they had finally tracked you down, and they could get you home.”

“Not yet,” came a sharp voice from behind him. A younger man appeared, shorter than Arthur, with blond hair. “Don’t make her talk about it yet. You can wait until she’s better.”

Graciela shook her head. This was the one part that was clear in her mind. She didn’t need to wait. “I was in… I was…” But she didn’t know how to say the words. Not while looking Arthur in the eye. “It was because of my ability,” she mumbled. “Because I make people stronger, and if they’re around me long enough, the effect is permanent. They thought if I… they thought they could…”

The man behind Arthur looked at her with pity in his eyes. He knew.

Sometimes she saw that same pity in the eyes of the enrichment specialists. Sometimes, if she thought about that condescending pity too much, her stress alarms would go off. Until they sedated her or she got herself under control.

She had spent so long learning to get herself under control.

Arthur cursed softly under his breath, and she knew he knew now, too.

That was another change in him. The last time she had seen him, his curses wouldn’t have been soft. And he would have broken something, for good measure.

“You were in one of the PERI breeding programs,” he said. “They thought your power meant you would have babies with strong abilities.” He followed up with another curse. Louder this time. Maybe not that much had changed after all.

“I was in a newer program,” she said. “Better than most.” She wondered why she was trying to defend the people who had kept her prisoner. Then she remembered her stress alarms blaring whenever she thought too hard about what had been done to her, and she didn’t have to wonder.

“They reassigned me a couple of years after they took me,” she said. “It was after two babies. Maybe three. It was better after that.”

She heard the pleading note in her voice. Pleading for her heartbeat to calm, for the stress alarms not to go off. She was happy. She was. She didn’t need to be sedated.

“Three babies,” Arthur muttered, and cursed again.

“In the new program, they kept me conscious most of the time,” she said. “They had enrichment specialists who came every day. It was an experiment. They thought it might help the babies’ brains develop.”

She didn’t talk about how being conscious enough to watch her belly grow also meant it was impossible not to think about what was growing inside her. Squirming in horror at the thought of a living creature growing in swelling in her body, until the stress alarms went off. Thinking about someone gripping her baby from her arms, until her stress alarms went off. Escaping into daydreams of running away clutching a new baby, until the dream went sour and her stress alarms went off.

In some ways, unconsciousness had been easier.

Arthur cursed again. He had learned some new words since she had been gone.

“I need to get some air,” he muttered, and forced himself past the shorter man and out of the room.

“Arthur,” she called. “Arthur, wait.” But her voice was maddeningly weak, and he didn’t turn around.

The other man shook his head. “I’m sorry about him.” He held a hand out to her. “I’m Ruben. I’m part of the team that tracked you down. Your old team, actually, although there’s not many of the old guard left. Most of them were taken when you were.”

The team had recruited Arthur at nineteen, when the right person had seen him using his power. Not a surprise, really. He had always used it too carelessly. The bigger surprise was that their team had found him before PERI had.

They had explained the ways of the world to him—the Enhanced with their genetic gifts, fractured into hundreds of tiny and secretive communities. PERI, the government program that wanted to use their gifts for themselves and breed stronger versions of them. She hadn’t thought about what that second part really meant. Not back then.

And they hadn’t thought about the danger, either of them. Arthur had imagined being a superhero, and he had brought her along for the ride. Neither of them knew, at first, what she could do. They didn’t find out until everyone independently realized their powers were stronger the more time they spent around her.

She had spent years trying not to think about the rest of the team, because if she thought about them, her stress alarms would go off. Now she had a dozen deaths to mourn all at once.

But not Arthur. Arthur was still here.

And still a hothead who couldn’t handle his own emotions. They used to argue about that. Just like they used to argue about him using his power unnecessarily. He always said it was her jealousy talking. And okay, maybe he had been right about that. Just a little.

“He doesn’t get to walk out on me,” she said. She wished her voice didn’t sound so weak. “Not now. I’m going after him.”

“No.” Rubin spoke too sharply. He held out a hand to stop her.

“It’s okay. The sedative is wearing off. My thoughts are clear now.” They were, all of a sudden. Clear enough to see that Arthur was still being the same as he had always been, and right now she needed him, he couldn’t just…

The world spun. She clutched her head with her free hand.

“I really think you should rest,” said Ruben.

Maybe if he had phrased it differently. But in his voice, she heard one enrichment specialist after another. You need to rest. It’s good for the baby. “I’ve been resting for…” Ten babies. One per year. That meant… “For ten years,” she almost shouted, and was surprised when she didn’t hear the gentle but insistent beeping of the alarms.

She swung her legs off the couch and stood on shaky legs. Her head was clear now. Why were her legs still so—

The world tilted sideways.

The ground rushed at her.

Her mug crashed to the floor beside her, splashing hot tea onto her ankle.

Then nothing.

When she woke, she was on the couch again. She could tell it because it was soft, and floors shouldn’t be soft.

Two voices argued somewhere nearby. One lower—Arthur. One higher—Rubin.

“It’s not just the sedative, is it?” Arthur sounded harsh and demanding, the way he always got when he was covering for fear. “You wouldn’t have that look on your face if it was just the sedative.”

“I didn’t know for sure. I still don’t. There were some concerning signs in her bloodwork, but the fainting could just be overwhelm. She spent ten years in that place.”

“Don’t give me that. What did you see in her blood?”

“I don’t know for sure…”

The sound of a fist striking a wall. “Damn it, Ruben, what did you see?”

“Quiet,” Ruben hissed. “You’ll wake her up.”

Graciela held herself perfectly still. She kept her breathing slow and even. She had a lot of practice.

“They’ve been dosing her with some synthetic drug,” said Ruben. “From what I can tell, the only thing it does is make the body intensely dependent on it. It has almost no physiological effects while it’s in her system, but when it fades, her body can’t function.”

Graciela remembered a day walking in the garden with one of the enrichment specialists. She had started feeling shaky—just like she had when she had stood up just now. The enrichment specialist had hustled her back for her medications, muttering about not keeping track of the time well enough.

Graciela hadn’t thought anything of it. They always gave her medicine when she was pregnant, to help the baby grow. And when she was between pregnancies, to help her recover.

“So she’s going through withdrawal,” said Arthur.

A long pause. “It’s not that simple. The effects are more—” Ruben cut himself off. “She’s awake.”

She steadied her breathing, but it was too late. She heard them walk to the couch, two sets of footsteps. Resigned, she opened her eyes.

Arthur shook his head. “I can’t.” He stormed off. Again.

So much for the fairytale rescue from her dreams.

“How are you feeling?” Ruben’s voice was too gentle.

Instead of answering, she held his gaze. His eyes were a warm brown, and drowning in pity. “Am I dying?”

Another one of those long pauses. After too many seconds had passed, he shook his head. “Why would you think—”

“I heard you talking to Arthur. Am I dying?”

He broke their gaze to stare down at his shoes. So he was a coward like Arthur, just in a different way. She waited for the stress alarms to go off. They didn’t.

“We don’t know for sure,” he said, just like he had told Arthur.

“But you think I am,” she said flatly.

He didn’t answer. Which, of course, was an answer all on its own. A coward’s answer.

“You could at least say it out loud,” she snapped, and was surprised by the venom in her own voice.

His head jerked up, startled.

She had dreamed about her happy ending. She had taken refuge in those dreams until the difference between dreams and reality had made her captors sedate her. In her dreams, Arthur had stayed by her side. In her dreams, everyone had still been alive.

In her dreams, what came after rescue was happily ever after. Not passing out when she tried to stand up. Not dying before she had a chance to learn what the reality of rescue was like.

“Why?” The question came out soft and wobbly.

When he figured out that it wasn’t a philosophical question, that she was actually waiting for an answer, he shook his head. “Again, I can’t know for sure. But since this is the only effect the drug has, I think we can assume it was some kind of failsafe. So that if anyone escaped…”

“If they can’t have me, no one can,” Graciela said bitterly. That was what she had always been. Someone else’s resource. Something to help other people fight; something other people would kill for. She had thought she would figure out how to be more. She had thought she would have time.

“We haven’t seen this used before,” said Ruben. “They must have been testing it on the people in that new program of yours.”

“They tested a lot of things on us.” She had thought it was better than the main breeding program. Because they had let her stay awake. Because they had let her do children’s puzzles. A needle in the arm twice a day had been a small price to pay for such grand freedoms as those.

But that hadn’t been the question she was asking. She shook her head, and watched the world spin again. “Why even rescue me?” she clarified. “Why, if I’m just going to die?”

“We didn’t know,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He paused. “It’s not too late. We could take you back. They could give you your next dose. You would almost certainly survive.”

She knew she should say no right away, because wasn’t freedom worth any cost? That was what she had always been taught.

But she didn’t answer.

She thought about the pastel world she had left. About holding her baby for an hour, and then having the enrichment specialists smile as they lifted them from her arms. She thought about the picture books, and children’s puzzles, and her mind spinning in tighter and tighter circles until the alarms went off and cost her another day. Or a week. Or months.

But it was peaceful there. It had to be peaceful. She had to be peaceful. She had no choice.

Everything was soft and easy. It wasn’t so bad.

That was what she had told herself for years, until the alarms had stopped going off. Maybe it was even true.

In some ways, she fit in better in that soft and easy world than with Arthur and the others. She had never been a fighter. Not like Arthur—he was a natural at it. He had only been waiting for the right cause. She didn’t even have a power of her own.

Back then, she had thought she would find a way to be useful in her own right. Just like she had thought Arthur would learn not to use his power where the wrong people might see him, and how to stop running from every emotion besides anger. She had thought she would get over her gnawing jealousy.

And they would live happily ever after.

 Her capture had interrupted that story. But even though she had learned not to pay too much attention to her dreams, part of her had never stopped dreaming of her rescue, and her happily ever after.

And now the story had been interrupted again.

Maybe she never would have become a hero. Maybe she had always been doomed to be the maiden in the tower, swooning at her rescuer’s feet.

But at least she should get what the maidens in the towers always got. She should get her happy ending.

She realized, all of a sudden, that her stomach was churning and her hands were balled into fists. Still, no alarms went off.

Arthur appeared behind Ruben. She hadn’t heard him walk back in. “Is that what you want?” he asked, in a voice too soft to belong to him. “For us to take you back there?”

She hadn’t heard him come back, she realized, because he had never left. He had been just out of sight, listening.

He waited for her answer, defeat shining dully in his eyes. She knew how much it must kill him to concede defeat, to give up his rescued princess.

She looked at the two cowards in front of her—one with his jaw clenched tightly in anger, the other looking everywhere but at her. She looked around at the ugly smeared-watercolor room with all its clashing colors.

She dug her fingernails deeper into her palms.

“No,” she said. “I want to stay.”

Maybe she couldn’t have her happy ending. But if she wasn’t happy at the ending she got, if she cried, if she screamed in fury, at least no one would knock her out for it. She would keep her righteous anger, and her sorrow, and her jealousy and all the rest. She would keep them until her body failed. It was better than inner peace enforced at the point of a needle.

“Kiss me,” she said, looking into Arthur’s eyes. “I should at least get that part of the story.”

He hesitated. At first she thought it was because he didn’t understand what she was talking about. But then he said, “There’s someone else.”

Of course there was. It had been ten years.

She nodded, and broke their gaze so he wouldn’t see the tears.

And that was when he kissed her anyway.

The kiss was terrible. She didn’t remember what she was doing, and his lips tasted like guilt. It was awkward, and it was ugly, and it was beautiful.

As he pulled away, another wave of weakness came over her. Ruben was right—she was dying. She felt it in her bones. That was the last kiss she would ever get.

Fury built in her belly. She didn’t force it away by taking deep breaths and forcing her thoughts into a pastel watercolor blur. She didn’t have to. She could scream if she wanted to, and no one would stop her.

She didn’t scream. She laughed with pure delight. Arthur and Ruben stared. They didn’t understand. She didn’t care.

She was furious. She was jealous. She was miserable. Her body was weak and growing weaker, and she hurt where the tenth baby had been, and she was still bleeding. The new program had been that bad, and her dreams would never come true.

And she was allowed to know it. Her thoughts were an angry watercolor swirl, and no one would ever force her to make them beautiful again.

That was all the happy ending she needed.

---

Tagged: @cakeinthevoid

Ask to be added or removed from my Whumptober 2023 taglist.

[headpainmigraine]

Imposter syndrome is a sneaky ambush predator.

Thing about ambush predators is that they sit and wait for prey to come their way.

And it's gotten to the point, now, where its a little easier for me to stop walking right past it and offering myself up for dinner.

I was fired for my disability

I can't stay awake more than 6 hours a day

I can't hold my 1 year old nephew for half a minute without being wiped out for the rest of the day (???)

I'm in constant pain. Daily.

I can't stand up.

Fuck it, and fuck the DWP, and fuck the doctors who look at me like I'm lying without the courtesy of pretending to believe me, or letting me finish a fucking sentence

It is real.

I am struggling, and I wouldn't be putting myself through this (painkillers meds pharmacy visits gp visits specialist visits arguing with the government about my right to live and have money to do so going out in a wheelchair buying mobility aids missing parties and birthdays and weddings and going to the shop and the constant calculations of will the pain and fatigue let me will it be worth it) if it wasn't. Real.

[robinruns]

Blah blah blah

My mom has a medical issue that I will henceforth be referring to as her Old Lady Plumbing Problem, or OLPP. She's gonna be calling the doctor in the morning, and she's certain she'll have to get a referral to a specialist and have surgery. Naturally she is spiraling despite not even knowing how bad it is. She's already declared Christmas is ruined, claiming my day off this Friday for her potential appointment with the specialist (again, she has not yet seen a general practice doctor, let alone gotten an appointment). I did tell her if they weren't gonna get her in with the general physician for the referral, I'd cancel my appointment for my knee and she could take that opening.

It's not that my knee isn't bothering me, it is, but it isn't as bad as it has been. Probably because I haven't been doing anything. At this point I'm not terribly worried about my 10k in a few weeks, but like, I dunno, maybe I should be?

I was looking forward to doing it because it's the first in a new medal series, so if I miss it, I miss the first medal and then what's the point in doing the following years?

And like that's sorta the problem I face with regard to my fitness in general. In 2015 when I started this blog and I was really getting going on losing weight, it was all in preparation of running a marathon before I was 30. I had it all set up: 10k in 2015, half marathon in 2016, marathon in 2017. But now it's like ok I did that, twice, and I don't want to do it again, so what am I working toward? What is that goal in the distance? A specific time for the 10k? I sorta feel like that's gotta be it, but like... I dunno. 55:21 is my current PR from 2018 (8:54 pace), and my most recent 10k was a 1:18:05 (12:33 pace). Obviously there is a huge amount of room for improvement there, but time goals are sorta amorphous.

Maybe goal 1 is getting back to a 1 hour 10k. That obviously won't be at the race in a couple weeks, but it's something to work toward. I just wish I could get something more defined to work toward.

[beanswrites]

We need to talk about anxiety.

okay so recently i've been having like increased heart rate and stuff like that and i've been so worried

AND I JUST REALIZED THAT I'M FINE, I JUST HAVE ANXIETY??

neat.

literately all the symptoms of an anxiety attack are MY symptoms

So, if you:

- suddenly have increased heart rate

- are trembling

- feeling weak

- having stomach problems

- feeling nausieted

- feel weak, and/or tired

- are breathing heavily

- sweating more than usual

You're okay, you're probably having an anxiety/panic attack. So, relax, breath slowly and gently through your nose, have a glass of water, eat something, watch something to distract yourself, listen to music. Basically, just try to distract yourself as much as you can. I know that it's not possible to "jUsT nOt Be AnXiOuS" or "jUsT dOn'T tHiNk AbOuT iT", but seriously, distracting helps.

I'm no professional, but I am someone who didn't know what was wrong with me until I realized this. And it helped me, quite a bit! As soon as I realized that I'm way too anxious today, I started watching this compilation that's 3 hours long of my favorite show, and it relaxed me!

Things that could also help:

- Try talking about it with someone as it happens. I find that I feel much better if I tell someone what's going on and they reassure me that I'm gonna be fine. Just talking about my anxiety with my sister already makes it feel better!! It's not for everyone, but it does help!

- Take a shower. Preferably, a cold one. It's gonna relax your muscles and help you think, plus it helps A LOT with the sweating. However, if you're trembling way too much to stand for 10-15 minutes under the shower, lay down, deep breaths and watch something.

- If you are wearing tight clothes (tight shirts, shorts/pants that are way too tight in the waistband, bras, binders, corsets, anything that restricts your stomach/chest), take it off. You'll feel much less pressure, meaning that your heavy breathing and/or stomach problems won't be as triggered.

- Not while you're having an anxiety attack, but after, think about what triggered your anxiety attack. It's not that easy (sometimes it might seem like you're anxious about nothing in particular) but killing the source of the problem always helps.

- Once you're relaxed or half-relaxed, try not to go back to the anxious state. Even if you feel like you're fine now (for example everything is fine but you're still trembling/shivering a bit), continue distracting yourself. There's been countless cases and even is common for people to have two panic/anxiety attacks in a row, because they calmed from the first but couldn't keep relaxed. (Had them myself, 0/10 would not recommend, not fun in the least)

- if you can, try to sleep. anxiety attacks and anxiety in general can be really tiring lol

- listen. anxiety is a bitch and it acts all crazy. your nerves are gonna be triggered, so don't fear too much if you accidentaly twitch or tic, or even feel light numbness in your fingers/arms/face. it's normal and usual for anxiety, so don't put more panic on yourself if that happens.

- i'm almost never for forcefully vomiting, but if you're really feeling sick, TRY. TO. VOMIT. It will take that pressure out of you if you do and make you feel better. But only if you feel like you really need to.

- also, if you're having stomach pains and cramps, try to take a dump. helps for the same reasons as vomiting.

Once again, by any means I'm NOT a specialist for anxiety (or mental health, for that matter), a professional, or a doctor. I'm literately just a very anxious (sometimes too paranoid) girl and these are my personal experiances and things that help me. I'm not saying that they're gonna help everyone (everyone's anxiety is different), but it might help someone!

Here are some more links of research, symptoms and help for anxiety/panic attacks:

1. The symptoms of an anxiety attack

2. The difference between a panic attack and an anxiety attack

3. Ways to prevent/help for anxiety/panic attacks

4. Breathing exercise

5. 3 hours of calming music

6. 3 hours of Ink Master livestream because it's so good??? And distracting??

7. 1 hour of Bob Ross because there is nothing more calming than this man

8. Games you could play to lessen you anxiety, if you're more for games, my favorite is Stardew Valley and Sky

9. The national hotline for anxiety is +18663079551. Talk to someone on the phone (or text) if you can't talk to someone in real life

Another way to prevent this (if you have any anxiety disorder), is by taking medicine. However, I didn't list that since:

- They are expensive

- There's not much research on them/some of them might not be safe

- Not many people are privileged enough to get a perscription and/or professional diagnosis

As someone who is from a very conservative, small-minded country (therefore the concept of mental health doesn't exist to them), I've never been diagnosed profesionally there, since people brushed it off as the usual: "Silly teenager! Silly teenager worry? No, no! Worry for old people! Teenager just dumb!" But I wasn't fucking dumb. I've been to actual, professional doctors where I live now and they told me that even though my illnes wasn't as severe as some other people (don't need meds, but still have irregular attacks of panic and worry), it's still real.

I'm not hating on the medication by any means!! If you take meds for anxiety and they work for you, that's awesome, I'm really glad you found a way to deal with it!! I'm just saying that it might not work/be the best solution for some people.

---

Sorry for the rant, I just felt like I needed to share since I found this out only recently and am glad that I finally know what's wrong. You can take my advice, or not, but do what you feel like will help you! Hope that you can find something that helps you calm down in this looooooongg post of my little things that help me!! All of my fella's with anxiety disorders, have a lovely day/night, have a good rest, and be safe ♡︎

[mittenwonders]

A moment to vent about our US healthcare system and why insurance is a joke.

I think we all already feel this way. I have had to go through some of my fair share of insurance approvals for medications and tests I need, etc. All of them get eventually approved. I do go through a private insurance provided through my work, but I want to discuss Medicare and the Medicare subsidies offered.

Most adults 65+ begin Medicare coverage and what is offered is a complete joke. It almost makes you seriously believe it is the government killing off the weak. I’ve recently had to go through all kinds of hoops last year as my dad proceeded to get worse with his health.

He’s oxygen dependent. It was a fight and a half making sure he could keep his concentrator at home because some of the tests showed “improvement.” The next was proving why he needed a bipap machine at night. We had to go through 3 different sleep studies with him before Medicare finally deemed it was okay to cover. This took an additional 7 months of fighting - all the while he would get more sick as he didn’t have the machine he desperately needed. His blood gas builds up over time as cO2 does not exit his body with an exhale like a normal person. This causes severe drowsiness, memory loss, not being alert and in some cases, totally unresponsive as the cO2 continues to build and poisons his own body.

Because he has something called BOOP (Bronchiolitis obliterans organizing pneumonia), when he gets a cold or even remotely sick, pneumonia can come on quicker overnight. It was always recommended he has a nebulizer on hand along with the albuterol solution. Guess what?? The insurance refused to cover and pay for the albuterol once he turned 65. Even after his doctor (of the last 30 years) and his pulmonary specialist have sent reports after reports of why he needs this treatment, the insurance continued to deny. They said we could appeal it a 4th time in which my dad replied “I’ll be dead by then.” Guess what?!? He’s been in the hospital ever since Jan 1.

Many older people who are on Medicare are not in the best financial position to buy their medications out of pocket as well. It really does become a matter of life/death in most cases.

He became hospitalized in which after a week, was discharged because Medicare would not continue to pay for his stay because his charts proved he was improving on paper. However, my dad still has an AWFUL cough in which he has trouble breathing. He was sent to a rehabilitation center for physical therapy to gain strength before coming home. A doctor never once came to see him about his cough, his PT was ignored completely because him being on dialysis interfered. Essentially in short, this facility knew he would not improve due to their lack of communication and coordination and would keep him longer to milk the insurance while he continued to get worse. I hate to say it but the godsend was that he fell & hit his head which prompted him back in the ER. No concussion but they did recognize that his cough was horrible. So away he goes back in the hospital again. So bad, he has a mild heart attack and ends up in ICU on a ventilator.

The worst part of both these incidents is that no staff once called to inform the family of the fall or the ventilator portion. I was able to visit my dad in ICU yesterday and spend several hours with him. He is improving slowly but my fear is the hospital will kick him out early again before he is actually better. I was able to talk to a nurse to make sure the contact info is up to date since we received no call & while she apologized and did not want to make an excuse for the lack of accountability, she did inform us that everywhere in the US, the healthcare system is crumbling. The short staff issue following COVID has never recovered and only continues to get worse.

Nurses and doctors are the angels who keep the system afloat. However, they are running ragged in a thankless job. They have too many patients per nurse and cannot get to all timely. They do not mean it but it causes neglect overall with patient care. Hospitals here in the US are simply another corporation that has fallen to the greed of capitalism. I cannot go to my local doctors office and ask them to fill out a form for my insurance without being charged $10 now. It’s a business and everyone must abide by the rules for the bottom dollar. Some of the rules put in place for nurses does not allow them to take the best care of action for their patients. She explained that if she gives a med through an IV per doctors order & the patient has a reaction, she must go through a 3 step process to get permission to take that patient off the med, whereas in the past, she could easily see a reaction was taking place & could stop it immediately. This is why nurses go through years or rigorous study and pass board exams to make these calls in emergency situations. Yes it’s to cover a hospital from a potential lawsuit but it can still cause more damage in the long run to the patient themself.

This is why there is a shortage and many are leaving the healthcare system as a career altogether. Our family doctor of 31 years retired unexpectedly a couple months ago. He admitted it’s because of the way it’s going and fighting insurance companies. He admitted if he continued, he’d have a stroke himself. How someone with only a high school diploma at a insurance company desk can make a decision on whether or not a patient needs a medication fighting the very doctors with years of schooling in their respective fields; it’s exhausting and maddening. There’s no respect for the actual physicians and medical experts anymore. It’s all a big business. Meanwhile, innocent Americans suffer and possibly face declining health or even death - all because insurance companies do not want to pay up.

Everyone praises politicians for putting a cap on insulin to $35 but the reality is insulin only costs $2-4 per vile to produce. $2-4!!! These big pharma companies continue to make bank while innocent citizens continue to struggle on whether or not they can afford medications to keep them alive. Some insurances are not even willing to cover any of it. The root cause is the lobbyists at the end of the day. Do not even get me started on our FDA and what a joke they are. I could go on an entire separate rant about that alone.

The nurse I had the pleasure of discussing this with begged me to please write local law makers, state legislators and Congress about the struggles I have seen firsthand with how our healthcare system is crumbling in real time. Many of these medical experts went into the field not to make money but because they wanted to help people. But how can they do that when it’s all about money nonstop? I implore others to please do the same and write, write, write! I have already written 27 emails today to different elected officials within our state and at the federal level. But it takes more people to really drive the point that we are tired!

Asking for healthcare is a fundamental human right, not a luxury afforded to a few.

I believe in a fair universal healthcare system where everyone is treated equally no matter the person’s health condition or history. No one should be worrying how they will pay medical bills or if they have to pass on getting medication filled so they don’t lose their home. Absolutely no one, child or elderly to in-between should be turned away. We’re supposed to be one of the richest countries in the world yet our citizens are treated like a third world nation and suffering. All while the federal minimum wage stays stagnant, the cost of living continues to rise and the retirement age will most likely increase yet again.

Please write to your representatives and express your voices too! It’s the only way to invoke change.

[elevenfifths]

friend asks how I'm doing

but I can't really say that I'm living in a special kind of hell where I helplessly fling ideas off the body of my spouse who has a 1-2hr panic attack on the daily bc their body hurts so bad that there's no way for them to a) do an activity, and b) find any kind of position that mimics comfort. I can't share how painful and soul crushing it is to watch the person you love most in this cold, fucked world experience this day in and day out and it just keeps getting worse. nothing touches the pain. not cbd gummies or baths, not pain meds (nsaid's or non-nsaid's), muscle relaxers have little effect, theragun doesn't do anything, nerve pain gel doesn't touch it, hot and cold packs feel like throwing a cup of water at a house fire, IF-4000 and tens unit are like spicy paper at this point, KT tape in place of ligaments leaves painful residue and even more painful blisters, opioids really are not the answer but half a tab of whateverthefuck every like ten days almost helps for three hours. I want my wife back. I want the person I married back. I want to not sit idle nearby like an idiot while they suffer through chronic and endless pain. they have like 12+ doctors/specialists/therapists trying to like make them more comfortable even for a moment. and they tell me that they don't want to wake up tomorrow and I can't say keep trying bc like I wouldn't want to either. I can't say any of this bc it's too much for anyone to really hold space for. I get that.

so I just respond "hanging in there, lol. you?"

[dont-call-me-algernon]

Hello, hello!

Do you have any fluffy and/or silly headcanons for Falsepretensesshipping (Grimsley x Colress)?

P.s. I hope you're having a great day! ^°^

As a matter of fact, I do! I've wasted so much time thinking about these two in the past few years, so have four very specific headcanons for them:

1. They're the entire Alolan teenage population's honorary Cool Uncles. Grimsley has become sort of famous among the locals for both his Mantine Surf and magic card tricks and his willingness to teach them to anyone who might ask him to, while Colress is the eccentric but polite resident scientist who always rewards trainers for helping him collect research data (which basically just involves having a battle with him or allowing him to take a closer look at your pokemon) with very useful items. They have let runaway young trainers who had had a big fight with their parents/guardians/whatever sleep on their couch before, for as long as it took to settle their disagreement.

2. The reason why they rarely (if ever) bet on the outcome of a game of cards and prefer to put both silly and more serious stakes on pokemon battles instead, is that it would be terribly unfair. How? Well, Colress' poker face is literally non-existent. Or rather – his expression is just blank enough not to betray him, but he has so many other tells (from shaking his head, to fixing his glasses, to clicking his tongue) that even a rookie player would be able to tell when he's bluffing. He beat Grimsley one (1) time at poker and that was it. And even then it was a massive, massive case of beginner's luck.

3. On at least one occasion, Grimsley infiltrates an exclusive scientific convention Colress has been invited to speak at, for no other reason than to see how long he can keep the charade going. He borrows one of Colress' lab coats and boring suits (Grimsley's exact words) and spends an entire evening chatting up other scientist, pretending to be "doctor G, pokébiologist". He's a good enough liar and has absorbed enough scientific vocabulary just from passively listening to Colress ramble about his research that he actually does pretty well, and it takes several hours for people to get suspicious. When he's inevitably escorted out, Colress pretends not to know him.

4. Somewhere down the line, they end up co-owning a Deino. Colress is the one to procure it because he was always fascinated by his previous employer who shall not be named's Hydreigon and wanted to study whether being raised in a more comfortable environment would positively influence its behaviour or whether it's just an extremely violent and aggressive species by nature – you know, the old nature vs nurture conundrum. The best way to do so, of course, would be with the assistance of someone who's already used to working with dark types. Which is where Grimsley comes into play. And he's more than happy to help out, too, since Deino is one of those infamously difficult species to train that any dark type specialist wanting to prove their skill has to tackle, sooner or later in their career. Turns out that a properly trained Deino is indeed less destructive... which does NOT mean the little fiend doesn't rip half of Grimsley's furniture and wardrobe to shreds before learning to answer his commands.

(Thanks for the ask btw! I always love an excuse to ramble about my current favourite ships/characters!)

[meadowofbluebells]

Find the Word Tag

Thank you for the tag, @enne-uni. :)

So, I have a lot of short story WiPs that I'm currently working on, so there were a lot of instances of these words. Though, a few of these sound insane without their context. Oh well.

WIP 1: And So To Queens Can Fall

Solana spent a couple more minutes in the room, unwilling to leave them just yet. She made sure to analyze her little girls as much as possible. The way Winifred wrinkled her nose whenever Vera was too loud. How Vera never stopped smiling, even in her sleep; her little ray of sunshine.

The little girl slowly blinked into consciousness. Her green eyes hazily fell on her mother. “Is it morning already?”

WIP 2: Denial (Working Title)

“Do you think there is a way to get back? I mean, we’re still talking. Maybe there is a puzzle piece that we’re just missing.” Gideon’s hands were wrapped around his knees and he was staring down at Atticus’ white sneakers.

WIP 3: Beloved

They had been collecting herbs all day, and her feet felt swollen from walking so far outside the city. So, when she saw the pretty white flowers with pink centers she was excited. She had immediately picked one and brought it to her nose, only to realize it smelled like rotting flesh. 

“Boo!” Andy flinched at the loud noise right next to her ear.

WIP 4: Powers (Working Title)

Thus, Graham spent most of his early childhood going to specialist after specialist. His parents drove to appointments early in the morning or flew across the country for answers. Nothing ever came of it, though.

 As Graham slowly sat up, wincing at the pull on his bruised skin, he watched the pristine white pages of their test flutter to the ground like confetti at the end of a performance.

WIP 5: The Pirate Boy

Yet, as she walked around the house, everything else felt familiar. By the time she had circled back to the attic, she felt no closer to an answer. The only thing out of place was the wooden ladder painted white.

She looked around the tables again. Her eyes focused on each member individually. Lord Sock was blushing all the way to the roots of his balding white hair as he talked to Miss Rock. She, in turn, was smiling so widely that her crow’s feet looked like half-stars on each side of her head.

The next morning, she woke up to a child’s laugh. The sound was loud but melodic. However, to Carla, who got precious few hours of sleep, the sound was grating.

“They are rather loud, are they not?” She said to the boy.

However, the next morning, when she raced out of her bedroom in a bid to get to work as soon as possible, there was no attic. She had stopped in her tracks, one rm hanging out her blazer and the other brushing through her hair.

WIP 6: Signed, Death

The door creaked open as he flicked on the lights - stumbling into the orderly room with a jubilant stride. He threw on his jacket and stuffed his wallet into one of the front pockets. Then, with a satisfied nod, turned to leave. However, as he pivoted, a flash of white on his desk caught his attention. With a furrowed brow, David turned to examine the object - a pristine envelope with his name written in elegantly looping letters.

When David awoke, he was surrounded by white walls. For a moment he thought death had taken pity on him and heeded his cries. However, the overpowering scent of hand sanitizer quickly destroyed that hope. His hazy eyes slowly focused enough to see the face of a smiling doctor swimming in front of him. 

There was a fine mist in the air as David drove home. The white fog shied away from the street lamps and his headlights Still, he was practically squinting by the time he turned onto one of the less-used side streets. The sound of other motorists arriving home late drifted further and further away as he drove.

WIP 7: The Grim Reaper (Working Title)

 Her tirade was cut off by a cold sensation on her forearm. She turned around sharply to glare at Grim. “What?”

WIP 8: The Wedding (Working Title)

Zoe was dressed in an off-the-shoulder gown with an a-line skirt. The fabric was as white as snow.

“I think you should try something that is more of an off-white.” Melody said as she turned back toward Zoe, her eyelashes fluttering rapidly.

WIP 9: Up a Tree (Working Title)

Barnett snorted. “Like you did this morning?”

“You’ll thank me in the morning.”

This was fun. :)

I'll tag @fleurtygurl and @lassiesandiego. Of course, anyone else who wants to take part is welcome.

Your words are: -Sky -Dream -Melody -Twirl

[sincerelysober]

Mood Journaling

Mood Journaling

Weekly Check-Out (Feb. 27-March 6 )

Overall last week was okay. It was fairly busy and my anxiety remained high all week which did effect my sleep, but wasn’t too bad. I continued to find healthy outlets for me to relax with each day which is greatly improving my mental wellbeing, so let’s jump into how my goals went. 1. I actually finished an entire book and am half way through another, so I completed AND exceeded my goal of 50 pages a day. Reading has become a great way for me to come down and helped me out on a lot of late nights.

2. This one I failed greatly. I didn’t add on to my workout routine OR actually complete it at all, but more on that to follow.

3. I attempted to do this, but it was out of my control and I have to follow-up on it this week. Since this was out of my control I can’t say I met/failed this goal and will keep it on my list to be achieved.

Weekly Check-In March 6th, 2023

Mood: Anxious & Defeated  Depression: 3 Anxiety: 8 Sleep: 7 hours  Appetite: Below Average

Weekly Goals:

1. Continue apartment clean out  2. Make doctor appointments 3. Take care of vehicle registration & renew license

Last week was stressful for multiple reasons, one of them being that my liver disease symptoms came back in full effect. This impacted me greatly physically, so I was unable to complete my goal of working out last week. That had helped me with a lot of “feeling accomplished” in the week prior, so it was sort of a let down. Reading helped a lot in this regard, and I also found more time to add some casual gaming into my day/night. I always loved gaming, but with life being so busy it’s been harder to game daily over the last few years, so that was super nice for mem as well. I did get to go to the doctor so I am on some temporary medications right now to help with my symptoms, and am working on scheduling more doctor visits this week with my specialists. I should’ve kept up with this and maybe my symptoms wouldn’t have flared, but alas here I am. Luckily I have off this coming weekend and it’s the first time in over a year that my boyfriend won’t be around so I am hoping to get more done apartment wise with the extra time to myself. And as mentioned above, I will not only continue to straighten out my vehicle registration BUT I also need to renew my license! My job needs this as well, so I should have enough motivation to take care of that. I have until the end of the month, but better to have it out of the way and taken care of. Am I right?

I should also mention that even though it wasn’t a goal last week I managed to continue journaling daily. It’s harder to get on here when I work, but I do have a physical journal I write in and am part of an emotional support discord where I complete daily questions as an outlet as well.

Here’s to taking it step by step as we go through life week by week! Happy March everybody~

[ruthiesrambles2]

Ruthie rewatches: Season One, Episode One (part one)

Here have a stream of consciousness as I watch. Had so much to say that I'm cutting off halfway through the episode because it's taken me an hour and a half to get this far.

Ohhh the animated intro! I forgot about this. I remember first watching this and being enthralled. Fucking love the art and the transition to live action.

Baby Miles… Oh. This scene fucks me up more every time. His dad and sibling being left outside??? Let me tell you that has killed me now we have K2.

Yeah yeah Layton is already boring sorry. Do love the face he pulls at Grey though. Feel kinda bad for Grey, there's zero redemption for him he's just straight up bad guy.

Can I take a minute to appreciate the intro? I'm in love with the blueprints and I wish there existed a full version (not that that would work given the amount of disbelief we have to suspend).

What is the thing on the engine room door? I keep trying to work it out, it doesn't look like a standard W or anything.

Aw yiss boss lady emerges!

We get a shot of a jumble of paperwork on a messy desk and then the booth itself is neat and spotless. 100% the desk is Melanie's and no one can touch it but Ruth cleans the booth.

Also there's a Dell laptop. Strange mix of tech on this show and we see surprisingly little of it.

Perfectly central and still shot of Melanie in uniform. The crisps lines. The colouring. Yes.

Melanie has sensible nails. Only one possible explanation for that, clearly. Gay.

Our introduction to the train… classroom is cool but confusing. It seems the number of children is quite small and a broad age range but all the work and art seems to be primary level. There must be at least one more classroom. Third class. Tail. Watch the colour seep out of shots.

Something about measuring days since departure. I love it but surely that would be so depressing. Every day it's "everyone you know in the world died x days ago. Praise Wilford"

The balls on Josie. The swagger on Till!!

So we've got Josie the vet being the closest thing we have to a doctor in the Tail but here's an extra who clearly knows how to use a stethoscope. We won't ever see her again.

Strong Boy my lad!! What a character. Not sure who's hairbrained idea it was to give up rations for one (1) super-soldier (mediocre grade). Probably Layton's.

Why isn't Miles as bedraggled as the other kids? He's not only clean but smiley too. Layton proximity powers.

Pike with hair! I have no love for the character but really starting to appreciate Steven Ogg's acting.

13 Arms. How many nightmares did Ruth have that night huh. The sound of shattering frozen flesh rings a little like champagne glasses, doesn't it? How many times did she relive that day setting up for First Class dinners. Forgive me I am 8 minutes in and already daydreaming about her.

Mama Grande… Miss you babe.

"I don't want you on the front line tomorrow" uhh I'm sorry Mr Layton but who do you think you are. Leave Miss Balls of Steel Josie alone she doesn't need your patronising bullshit. Oh wait, kiss/cuddle/domesticity. Eh. Let you off then.

OHHHH TIME FOR THE BEST SCENE IN THE WHOLE SERIES. MAMA GRANDE SING IT. This scene is honestly breathtaking. The song, the prayer, the weapons, the togetherness.

"Wilford's train is a fortress to class" excellent line is excellent.

God the faces shown here. Knowing they're going to be ripped from us. Not all at once but. Most of them.

Melanie at the steps to first class dining… they mirror this shot in s3 and it's such a great call back.

How does she walk in those heels? My feet hurt just looking at them.

Iguana time!

Incredible variety of food at breakfast time considering the delicate balance of the food system.

Gay dad time!

Throwing in Melanie speaking Cantonese to remind us she's SuperSmartGeniusGirl

First shot of my most specialist blorbo!! She looking so fine.

Look how in step Melanie and Ruth are. The mirroring! The eyelash flutter. Gay.

Also obsessed with the difference in cut between their uniforms. I wonder if the rest of hospitality have their uniforms tailored to body shape too.

Lilah, baby, they invented the sauna. They can be nakey and sing songs. It's OK. Bodies are natural.

LJ with the sunglasses. Girl who packs sunglasses to get on a train travelling forever through a perpetual winter wasteland? Iconic. Her fashion is so baby gay here. Bi LJ is basically canon right?

Why does Melanie turn to look at Ruth like she's staring into her soul. Gay.

OH NO. Eye flutters to Lilah now. Super gay.

TRACK TALK. For every ounce that @train-pirate hates it I double down on loving it. I'm keeping it. I'm going to say it to you all the time. Track talk.

Arm touch arm touch! Gay.

Walking brushing against each other! Gayer.

Fixed stare open mouth. Even gayer.

Eye lash flutters. Getting gayer.

"Excuse to wear your fur" + tongue click. GAYEST. WE HAVE REACHED PEAK GAY. THESE BITCHES FUCKING IT'S CONFIRMED.

Back to the Tail. Has anyone checked Pike can actually count? The man's just throwing up fingers he has no idea. Also look buddy. It's the woman you're gonna bang once and die for. Started from the bottom didn't ya.

Alison has confirmed it's a faux fur. So I can have a clear conscience about the way I'm looking at Ruth in it, right? ✨Respectfully✨

Alison my beloved. Pick an accent. I love it.

Tristan! Baby.

Ruth does not have the gay nails. Pillow princess.

I know we get this decontamination scene to see Layton dehumanised but they are not consistent with it at all. The jackboots and brakeman have no infectious disease control protocols so what's the point?

The subtrain seems set up for engineering/maintenance purposes but they talk about it later like whole swathes of people use it. Do you think it was designed like that or did people start using it as a shortcut after departure and Melanie couldn't stop it?

Okay I've gotta give it to DD his acting of a hungry man facing his favourite food is really great. I don't understand grilled cheese and tomato soup though. Shit tier food combination.

Okay so there's been debate about how Osweiller came to be a Brakeman and the consensus is he joined W security before the freeze. But the way Roche phrases it here "most of us were Wilford security. Some were… soccer players?" makes it very much seem he wasn't. Os is smart and resourceful but I so wanna know how he got in.

Ohhhhh Miles calling Josie mom. Crush my heart why don't you.

"yall got some serious problems up in here" Sassboy Layton. And the face he gives Osweiller. Okay DD you're winning again.

"What about his… Um…dick?" spoken like a true lesbian Bess Till.

Footie jokes. Just bantz innit.

"smooth relations". Girl. You're so awkward.

Melanie's eye contact is so strong. Forceful even. Unusually long. Autie vibes for sure, that's learned behaviour and masking and overthinking. Just doesn't look as creepy when you have a face like JC's.

… How does never-left-the-Tail Layton know what the Drawers are? He just rolls with it.

To be continued…

[aprillikesthings]

Update time!

My right hip started bugging me again on my long walk last weekend and is still happening on the walks to and from work, so no long walk this weekend. Might look up some yoga videos, though. (How much time have I spent looking at anatomy diagrams of the muscles of the hip and butt while poking myself to figure out which spot hurts? SO MANY.)

(I think it's one of the dozen little ones underneath the gluteus maximus but I Am Not a Doctor (or PT))

I did, just today, finally call Kaiser to ask about seeing a physical therapist.

Their soonest appointment is 8am the Monday after Thanksgiving. >:(

I could see a "community partner," but only with a referral from my doctor.

FFS.

I've done the online form to contact a place about a mile from me and ask how much it is out of pocket. I only need like ONE OR TWO VISITS probably.

I already hate making phone calls and shit and this was not encouraging. Doing them before work means having to estimate how long I'm going to be on hold and getting up that much earlier than usual and I never have any idea, at all, how long a phone call will take. Kaiser has had me on hold for nearly an hour before. ("Doesn't Kaiser let you make appointments online?" Not for everything! A bunch of specialists--including mental health--require phone calls.)

I have Fridays off, so ideally that's when I make phone calls, but also I hate making them, and so I sit and stew in anxiety until I either 1. make the call at like 4pm 2. don't make the call at all and get really angry and cranky at myself. It's taken me THREE WEEKS to call Kaiser for PT.

I have SO MUCH TO DO between now and April and I swear to god like half of it is shit I really hate doing and find horribly anxiety-inducing.

The real spiritual test of my Camino: dealing with phone calls and paperwork and appointments, things like "maybe switching my ADHD meds" and "doing a couple of years of back taxes" and "figuring out how to pay for things in Spain without being dinged by fees."

(Please do not offer advice.)

ANYWAY. Fingers crossed on the PT place near my house. Whether I see them or go back and get a referral through my doctor after all is gonna depend on the expense.